Chapter Forty Nine - The Benefits of Best Friends

Author's note; Over the next few chapters there will be some small scenes of a sexual nature or mention of sexual things.  I was going to write warnings on each chapter in regards to the whole situation, but decided it spoiled the mood.  So this is your only warning.  I estimate that sex will be mentioned in the next four chapters at least!

Zhang Min was the son of General Cheng Ju and Medical Officer Zhang Xia, but he inherited none of his mother's size, tenacity or outspoken manner. He was much more like his father, short, slender with delicate, steady hands and a quick mind. The only thing he had gained from his mother was his uncontrollable mess of curls upon his head. Yet despite all of this, he had still managed to make his name in the army as one of the best snipers there. He didn't think too much of this compliment, the army on this world was not too large of number, being around a quarter of the population where most of the rest were mine workers. That and target practice using wooden boards was as far as he got to polish and enhance his skills.

His best friend was also in the army and three years his senior, Song Jian, whose father was also a soldier and his mother... well saying she was crazy would be putting it mildly. Song Jian's younger brother had decided not to join the army, but become his mother's assistant so he could reign her in when she discovered something new and make sure she ate in between experiments.

Right now Song Jian was leaning over his back and was thrusting deep into his backside, grunting in pleasure.

There were relatively few women of their species on this planet and the army ensured that the natives would not be disturbed especially by rutting males, who could easily use their own hands or find alternative relief. The best friends had chosen the latter route.

Zhang Min cried out as the thick cock rubbed over his prostate once more tipping him over the edge and spilling his semen upon the bed. He reflexively tightened around Song Jian, who released inside him and fell heavily over him, his arm curling about Zhang Min's waist. They panted for breath a few times, before Song Jian removed his hold and slid out of Zhang Min's body. He then lay upon his back next to the smaller man, a satisfied expression on his face.

Zhang Min lay down upon his stomach beside him and glanced over the relaxed man. Song Jian was everything he had hoped to be as a child, tall, muscular and strong. His tanned skin seemed to darken every year as it stretched over new taut muscles and he was greatly admired amongst the troops. Not to mention his hair was fine, straight and styled to frame his square facial line. He was considered a good influence on him, by his mother, the general, so she had assigned them to the same room within the barracks.

If only she knew that he uses my body for sexual relief, he thought, though that was fine by him as he enjoyed the pleasure Song Jian gave him.

"I heard mother is assigning you to patrol the mines soon, until the new miners have settled in," Zhang Min mentioned. New workers on the two long haul transports came about every six years to replace the ones who had finished their contracts to return home. There were also a few new troops, though they were not always as welcome. The General kept the rebellious ones close to home so she and her closest subordinates could keep an eye on them. There were often a few broken bones suffered about this time and the newbies bitched and complained, but the old timers and second generation troops just laughed at them. Who exactly were they going to complain too all the way out here?

Zhang Min and Song Jian were of the very rare third generation, most soldiers had to travel back to the home world if they wanted a wife and family.

"Yes," Song Jian agreed.

"That new batch that just dropped, any women?" Zhang Min asked.

The other man frowned. "A few. Why do you ask?"

"Pfft, I saw how the last lot of girls lamented that you were not of age during the last drop," Zhang Min mentioned. "You could get yourself a wife and produce the first fourth generation brat."

"Don't need," Song Jian stated.

"Oh," the smaller man teased. "Don't you think you would feel better, putting it in a woman?"

Song Jian turned over onto his side and gave his friend a long, meaningful look. "You don't like?" His voice audibly deepened, causing a shiver to trail down Zhang Min's back.

"I never said that," he denied, softly.

"Good," the larger man said as he climbed on top of Zhang Min, parting his legs as he did so. "Want to do it again?" Zhang Min could barely nod in agreement as his body was plundered and he began to lose himself to the pleasure.

****

"Is dad joining another wagon line down to the Outsiders?" Willow burst in to the main home without greeting.  His mother looked up from her needlework; they had managed to obtain a rare bolt of cloth from the Outsiders recently and she had been busy turning it into dresses for her three daughters.

"Hmm," came the affirmation.

"Can I go with him?  Can I, mum?"

"No," his mother advised him.  "You have work to do, remember."  He flopped down onto a chair beside the table and sulked, nudging the fruit bowl he had carved for his parents along the surface.  He had decorated it with the shapes of common fruits found in the forest, including one that appeared cut in half and ready to be consumed.  The neighbours had commented how they could even see beads of juice ready to spill from it.

"But it's dull to carve the same things over and over again," Willow complained.  It was why he had asked to go travel with his father.  He didn't really wish to visit the Outsiders, after all Slate didn't like them, but anything was better than being in the village and subject to villagers whims.

"I don't understand," his mother frowned.  "There are many things that the village require to be carved and crafted." Such as cups and buckets, plates and wagon wheels even ornaments and dolls, though these were requested much less often.

"Women keep asking me to carve them a fruit bowl," he grumbled as he lay his cheek upon the table.  "And they all want it to look exactly like yours."

His mother raised one eyebrow as she glanced at him, before returning to her work.  "Well you may tell them that it cannot look exactly like mine."  He grinned broadly at the woman his eyes filled with hope.  "But you still cannot go travel on the wagons."  He groaned and continued to sulk without care of appearances.  "If you are bored, you can help Corn practice his bow."

Willow's eyes narrowed in thought.  A bow... he hadn't carved one of those yet... though he had produced many arrows.  "Okay," he agreed, easily and went in search of his brother.  His mother watched him leave with raised suspicions, but simply sighed in the end, wondering how she could have raised such an unfathomable child.

****

Corn enjoyed spending time in the company of his brother, they seldom did so these days, what with Willow busy crafting during the day and busy disappearing into the green forest in the evening.  He was even more surprised when his brother asked to see his bow.  Corn handed it to him, but instantly began to fuss as the older boy almost ruthlessly tested the weapons flexibility.

"Sorry," Willow said and handed it back, before he sat upon the leaf strewn ground in thought.  Corn shrugged and set an arrow in his bow before aiming at the target.  He calmed his heart and slowed his breath before releasing the arrow from his hold.  The projectile took flight, piercing the still air, to settle firmly near the centre of the target.  "Oh!" Willow said suddenly, surprising Corn from his meditative state.  "Sorry, I will see you later okay?"

"But brother, we never see each other anymore," Corn complained.  "Must you leave now?"

"We share a bed, you will see me later!" He yelled as he ran off.  Corn sighed and supposed these words were true.

But as they woke the next morning, Willow banged his head upon the low roof above the mezzanine room and struggled to get his lithe body down into the main room.  "Ah, it seems someone requires a room to themselves," his mother claimed as she took note of the extra height he seemed to have gained over the past few weeks.  His voice had clearly started to deepen, though this seemed to be a more gentle transition than she knew other boys experienced.

"Can I help craft it?"  Willow asked hopefully.  His mother agreed with a nod and his idea for a new bow for his brother slipped from his mind in the next heartbeat.

****

Slate's body had also begun it's transformation into adulthood, though the changes were more profound. No longer was he a short, stout child; his body had gained height and his once childish chest had broadened, his muscles becoming more refined with his training. His grey skin seemed darker, colder in stark contrast to his silver brows and lashes that framed warm pools of obsidian. He no longer lost in height to Willow, though he had not yet surpassed him either.

As his training progressed and he showed excellent early results as a fledgling hunter, protocol had eased slightly and he was no longer detained should he wished to walk freely in the village. Of course, he seldom stayed within the boundaries, but his superiors chose to turn a blind eye, knowing the Chief held much regard for the boy. It would be dawn shortly and the sky would take on hues as delicate as blossoms, but before that point, Slate had time to spend with Willow, should he also slip free from his village.

He let loose a sigh of relief when he noticed the boy standing in the lake water not far from the lakeside cave. His naked chest was not chiselled and muscular like his own, but had a slender, refined beauty to it, like it had been carved from a fresh vein of jade. He stood in silence, staring into the lakes water. Slate felt some movement awaken between his legs, but suppressed it as best he could.

"Hey," Slate called out. The boy's head whipped round to the direction of the voice, before he plunged deeper into the water.

"Don't come near!" Willow cried out.

"What's wrong?" Slate froze, looking panicked.

Willow knelt deeper into the water until it nearly touched his lower lip. "It won't go down," he whispered, worriedly.

"What?" Slate had to question if he had heard the boy correctly. The boy repeated his words slightly louder and both felt the heat rise within their cheeks. "C-come out, before you freeze."

Willow shook his head, causing a series of ripples across the surface. "No."

"Please, I can..." Slate's blush blackened his face further. "I can help you.. you know.. make it go down?"

"You can?" Willow asked. Slate nodded and watched as the other boy emerged from the cool waters which clearly had not helped his physical problem. "It's painful," he complained.

"I know," Slate said, softly. "You should touch it like this." He gave an embarrassing explanation of how the boy should relieve himself and averted his eyes as Willow followed his instructions.

"It's not working," Willow wailed. "And didn't you say it should feel good? It doesn't feel good at all. Show me how to do it." Slate stiffened in more ways than one, wondering how best to proceed, before choosing to take his own member in hand and slowly rub it. It throbbed within his fingers as Willow's staring eyes trapped him within their gaze. Willow tried again before suggesting an unknowingly cruel thing; "I know, you do it for me!"

Slate swallowed heavily, before sinking to the ground and spreading his legs apart. "You sit here," he instructed in a deep, growling tone, before clearing his throat. "Your back to me." Willow slipped into position, shivering as he realised Slate's member had risen and now touched his spine. Slate awkwardly reached around Willow's waist, before encompassing the boy's jade stick in his grey fingers. He began to move his hand rhythmically, using the wetness of the lake to ease the friction. Willow felt the blood thicken between his legs and a shiver of something new cause his member to throb.

"Oh," Willow gasped, arching his back and nestling his head into Slate's shoulder. He closed his eyes, languidly and focused on the feelings of pleasure Slate's hand was giving him. It did not take many rubs before Willow felt his body tense in unknown anticipation and he cried out as sticky white liquid shot from his member. His body trembled as he leant into Slates chest and suddenly he began to quietly laugh. "It's soft again," he mused, gently prodding it with a clawed finger. He then reached backward and hugged his best friend tightly. "Thank you!" He dived back into the lake to wash, before swimming to the other side and returning home clothed with a wave.

He had already forgotten that Slate's member remained standing to attention, leaving the poor boy to deal with it himself.